


the noise in your touch

by kinaesthetic



Series: Satya Vent-Fics [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Autistic Satya "Symmetra" Vaswani, Executive Dysfunction, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, Sensory Overload, and satya went with her because she believes in uncovering the conspiracy, assumes the general premise of satya deciding to leave vishkar based on info she or sombra learns, internalized ableism, post sombra leaving talon to further her own goals, post-vishkar, shutdowns suck, still in Overwatch universe but the specifics aren't important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 05:58:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14490345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinaesthetic/pseuds/kinaesthetic
Summary: With their negotiations finished in Marseilles, Sombra takes off to go shopping and otherwise enjoy the downtime before they leave to chase down another lead. Satya stays behind, knowing she needs some time to herself before they leave.But after three non-stop days of stress, espionage, and high-stakes blackmail, she's closer to the edge of a shutdown than she wants to be. It's making it a nightmare to do...well, anything.





	the noise in your touch

**Author's Note:**

> *jazz hands* another april ventfic from kina? more likely than you think.  
> obviously not all shutdowns, overloads, and the like happen this way, but this is what i know.  
> and obviously this is not how everyone wants a shutdown dealt with, but satya and sombra have been traveling with each other long enough that sombra gets the gist of what to do and trusts satya to tell her to fuck off if she gets it wrong.

Satya sits on the edge of the king-sized bed. Housekeeping came this morning if the softer sheets and blankets are anything to go by. As she smoothes down the silk sheets into flat oceans of pale pink, she frowns. With only a night left in their stay, surely housekeeping could have been more efficient. Had Sombra not given them a departure date?

No, she can remember the conversation. Sombra was quite clear on their departure date at the reception desk. The date given was three days from now, but their business was completed late last night; Sombra must have known that would happen.

The pinkie of her organic hand jumps.

It’s an involuntary jerky movement in three points: a flick, a bend, a twitch. Satya tenses her hand, bringing the offending digit back into line with the others. She pauses, then brings her hands back into her lap. She presses her palms together, focusing on the feeling of metal joints against flesh. She presses them tightly and stays very, very still.

She must pack.

The thought runs across her mind like a skittish deer, stopping to stare into the headlights of her focus. Satya knows she must pack. The thought settles at the forefront of her brain and she scolds herself for not listening.

She must pack or they won’t be able to leave on time.

Sombra is out, tying up loose ends or perhaps just shopping for herself, so it’s just her in this room. The king bed, the drawn curtains, the slivers of sunset shining through the gap in the fabrics. A bathroom with the light out. The clock on the bedside table between the bed and the wall.

The clock accuses her with what she already knows: Satya has been sitting on this mattress for three hours and sixteen minutes. She must pack. She _must_ , but there’s a threat that waits, just out of sight.

Too many variables. Her skin is crawling. The comforter buckles under her left leg, a few centimeters from her knee. It’s an unwanted point of contact if there ever was one. More precise than a lightning bolt, the hair on her thigh tries to stand up, even when trapped under stockings and a pencil skirt. Both parts of her wardrobe that were so comforting this morning feel like a cage, forcing her to focus on the comforter in that _one_ spot, poking her.

Satya squeezes her eyes shut and smooths down the offending wrinkle. Safe. Safe until something else _touches_ her.

She puts her hands back in her lap. The two top drawers of the dresser are full of her clothes. She has one sari in the closet, along with two pairs of business pants. Her suitcase is sitting on the floor of the closet, ready to be pulled out and refilled with clothes, toiletries and whatever souvenirs Sombra has in mind. The documents can go in her briefcase along with her photon gun. Nothing will be out of place once she finishes packing.

Satya stands up.

Now that’s she’s upright, nothing is touching her. Her shoes are still on, soft velvet flats that she’d picked out this morning. She considers the carpet. It’s a coarse weave and wine red, no doubt easier to clean and hide stubborn stains on. She takes a single step toward to the closet.

The side of her flat buckles and snaps against the side of her foot. Irritated, Satya stops and flicks her shoe off and then the other. They land haphazardly near the closet door. Her first thought is to go get them but, as she thought, the carpet stops her.

The carpet is almost worse than the shoes. Each fiber digs into the soles of her stocking-covered feet. Nothing has ever been more irritating. She presses her feet into the carpet until her soles are touching evenly. Each step she takes toward the closet is weighted, heavily pressed into the carpet so the pressure keeps the irritation down. She picks up the shoes with one hand, gingerly, then places them on the floor of the closet.

Even though she used her prosthetic hand to pick them up, the feedback is just as scrambled as her organic hand would have produced. She hugs herself by the elbows and walks back to the bed. No. She cannot sit back down; she needs to pack.

_Step, step, step, step._

Back at the closet- still daunting.

_Step, step, step, step._

Back at the bed- forbidden.

_Step, step, step, step._

Back at the closet- insurmountable.

_Step, step, step, step._

Back at the bed- lazy.

_Step, step, step, step._

Back at the closet- _lazy_.

_Step, step, step, step._

Back at the bed- **_lazy_**.

_Step, step, step-_

“Satya?”

Satya takes her palms off of her ears immediately, standing stark still in the middle of the room. Sombra sets down her bags and approaches. Satya can’t help but flinch, hands coming up to cover her face, rub at her temples, cover her ears, cover her face, rub-

“Satya? Hey, what’s going on?”

“I need to pack,” Satya whispers, shuddering at the way her voice creaks like an unoiled door hinge.

“ _Princesa,_ you don’t look like you want to be packing right now.” Sombra’s voice is soft but it still grates. Satya covers her ears for a second longer than she should. _That is rude; stop that!_

 _But it hurts_ _and I cannot-_

“I cannot pack,” Satya says, biting her tongue to keep herself from repeating but the thought echoes in her mind anyway. Does Sombra understand? “I am too lazy, I cannot.”

_I am too lazy, lazy, lazy, lazy-_

“You are not lazy.” Sombra comes close enough to touch but she doesn’t and Satya wants to thank her for not touching but her brain won’t let her. She’s lazy because she cannot and-

“If I cannot-”

“You said can’t, not won’t. You don’t have to pack right now. I don’t think you’re lazy. I think you’re tired.”

But no one ever believes her when she says she’s tired. Satya’s throat closes up at the thought of saying it aloud, only to be told that she is lazy, not trying, not working hard enough-

“Do you want to be wearing what you’re wearing?”

Satya shakes her head so fast that it hurts.

“Okay, well unbutton your shirt first. Then take your skirt off and your stockings. Let me get you your pjs, okay?” Sombra goes over to the dresser and pulls out a pair of Satya’s pajamas- a set of long sleeve thermal top and pants. Satya does as asked; it’s so much easier when someone else can give her the steps. Buttons unbuttoned, sleeves out, skirt unzipped and stepped out of, stockings peeled off her legs.

She takes the pajamas from Sombra, wincing when their fingers brush unexpectedly. Sombra apologizes. Satya wants to say it's okay but it's not okay. Nothing is.

Sombra allows her to dress without any interruptions. “We can leave when you’re feeling better, okay?”

“But the timetable-” Satya doesn't want to mess everything up, but it's already all messed up. She needed to pack _hours_ ago.

“We already did what we needed to do here. Everything else can wait. It doesn’t matter. _”_ Sombra pulls back the covers and gestures. Satya hesitates. _“You_ matter. I got this whole suite for us and we can have it as long as we need. When are you ever gonna sleep in a bed so soft?”

The answer to that, of course, is when they reach the next destination because Sombra won't sleep anywhere that's less than exquisite. Satya cracks the tiniest smile. Sombra either has no concept, or intention, of laying low.

Keeping her hands at her side, Satya walks toward the bed, curling her toes on the carpet. It's less annoying on her bare feet than it had been with the stockings but still, irritating.

“You don't _have_ to go to bed if you don't want. You can do something else, but it's okay to sleep.”

Satya sits on the mattress and sighs, then slips her legs under the covers. “I am... _exhausted_.”

“Nothing wrong with that.” Sombra watches with such a somber expression as Satya burrows into the covers. Satya wraps the blankets around herself until she can feel the pressure of the wrappings on every inch of her body.

The bed dips as Sombra leaves and Satya tries to ignore the loss that she feels at her back. She watches Sombra dim the lights and change into her own sleep clothes.

Sombra notices her watching. “Did you want me to stay next to you?”

Satya nods.

For the first time in the two weeks that they've been there, Sombra climbs into the bed and stays the night right next to Satya, rather than a respectable distance away. She fits her back against Satya's blanket-covered body and keeps her presence firm and comforting, calming the noise of Satya's brain until it's a dull roar.

The soft purple glow that casts across the room is the only indication that Sombra is undoubtedly still working, unraveling the webs around the world, those webs of chaos that pretend to be orderly. Tomorrow is another day to dismantle them together.

For today, or what's left of it, it's just the two of them in this bed. As her exhaustion creeps up on her, Satya realizes for the first time that Sombra's interest in her is a bit more than professional. No one else has ever done this for her. No one else would have dropped everything to make Satya feel better. No one has ever cared beyond _what_ Satya can accomplish. Anything else was inconsequential, either ignored or quashed.

Satya has never doubted that Sombra knows all of her secrets, but it always seemed like she did not _care_ about them. Knowing and caring are quite frankly different things. For the first time, Satya recognizes the third distinction.

Yes, Sombra knows and cares, but she does not _mind_.

And that, thankfully, seems to be the best combination possible.

**Author's Note:**

> <3  
> (one day, satya's going to find out that sombra is neither straight nor neurotypical and that's just the tea i'm pouring tonight)


End file.
